Blood Red
by GarGoyl
Summary: Forsaken by his family in early childhood and destined to become a priest, prince Aleksander Balakov has spent his whole life fighting evil and hoping for nothing. Now faced with a dangerous mission, little does he know that soon a forbidden love will also cross his path, changing everything forever. Rating will go up for violence and lemons.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

A/N - Hello everyone! After several failed attempts at writing a new Hetalia story and not coming up with anything… well… reasonable, I have (finally) decided to put into words a story I've been having in mind for some time now. It is very loosely based on _Hellsing Ultimate_ and the movie _The Countess_. Indeed, as you may have guessed, several characters in this story are vampires (but don't expect any sparkling) :)))

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

Warnings: This is a story I wrote for my inner demons and may not be for the faint of heart.

_Aleksander Balakov – Bulgaria_

_Valentin – Romania_

_Elizaveta (Erzsebet) Héderváry – Hungary_

* * *

He would have slept if he could. The other priest seated in front of him was now talking about the weather – how the sun rarely showed itself this time of year and even throughout the seasons the weather would remain stubbornly gloomy in this countryside – at least that was what he'd heard, and what of the crops? How could people travel and merchants transport their goods when the roads were said to get full of a soft, sticky sort of mud, so deep that one could easily lose a boot in? That was sure to be bad for his old bones, this insufferable chill that would slip even through the thickest clothing and he could feel it already.

Aleksander nodded politely from time to time, even muttering something in acknowledgement of his companion's chatter, but paying no attention. It was cold because it was winter, there was nothing new to it, as for his boots, they were already worn and dirty beyond imagination anyway. He didn't care much about the weather or this country as it was, it was just another mission. When he was very young and he'd left the constricting walls of that small Bulgarian monastery behind for the first time, Aleksander had felt a great deal of excitement indeed, but since then he'd done a lot of travelling and the long hours in a crammed carriage had become more and more tedious. He had no books to kill time with – just like he had no other worldly possessions other than two changes of clothes – only his own thoughts on the mission to come, which might very well have been his last.

Indeed, it was very likely in his line of work. Many priests had died fighting the bloodthirsty monsters he was hunting and it was – in the back of his mind the Bulgarian had no doubt about it – the way he would probably meet his end too, maybe even before becoming a full-fledged priest. And so this journey held no excitement for him, if anything only dread. Half-lidded green orbs swept wearily over the dark landscape unfolding beyond the carriage window as he was more and more tempted to doze off.

"Tsvetan?"

The voice of his older companion brought the young man back from the borders of sleep and he nearly winced. "Forgive me, Father, did you say something?" After all these years he still felt a like a cold needle shooting through his insides at hearing _this name_. This name, for it still wasn't his own. Tsvetan Georgiev was nobody. _Nobody's son and nobody's father, nobody's husband and nobody's brother, _so the tale went_. _And he_ wasn't _Tsvetan_._

"You look tired, Tsvetan. I am sorry that you couldn't even rest properly after your last assignment, but there was no time," said the older priest. "For what it's worth, you could see this as an appreciation of your work so far, the fact that Braginski has chosen you. You know, the bishop really is a special man, with much initiative. And a lot of courage, I might add."

"His choice honors me, of course. I've heard he's a very brave man."

Aleksander though it was worth making an effort to please Father Grigori. But he had not heard that much about bishop Braginski, other than that he was known for his stubbornness and resilience. Not so much for successful exploits though, in fact it was remarkable enough he was still alive after doing this for as long as he had and as recklessly as they said he did it.

"You do realise though, this is a very risky pursuit," the older man went on. "Countess Héderváry's family is under the protection of the emperor, who has always dismissed the rumors about them, he has even dismissed the plainly proven facts. Obviously, he would not believe – hardly anyone would believe – the truth about her. His great-grandfather was on the throne in her time, after all."

The dark-haired boy half-hugged himself, pulling the rough cloak tighter around his body – it was indeed getting colder. He hoped that at least where they were going there would be a warm bed waiting for him, in which to curl up and pass out for a few hours, at least.

"Risky…. Considering the implications, I can only hope that at the end of this we won't hang," Aleksander muttered.

Father Grigori only laughed softly. "Ah, no. All I am saying is that nothing upfront can be done, but if we are to lose this confrontation, a much more horrid end awaits us. _She_ will hardly be satisfied just with seeing us hang, rest assured."

Some assurance this was… And his biggest concern – if he were to admit it plainly, but never to Father Grigori – was that Aleksander did not trust Bishop Braginski and his methods too much. From what he'd heard, the man was hardly subtle and if somehow they were to survive this mission, he would probably get them in trouble with the imperial authorities. Besides, some crap was better left unstirred, in his opinion. The Church was experienced in hunting down ghouls, but ghouls were mindless beasts driven only by thirst and even if their power was great, they would not use it with skill. A real _vampire_ was something they knew next to nothing about. And that wasn't the only problem, the Héderváry family had a lot of loyal _human_ servants, how were those to be dealt with? Thus, it was plain to him that Bishop Ivan Braginski was most likely stirring some crap much bigger than they could handle.

"I must confess I find the whole story rather baffling," he said after a while."Ghouls and the like usually appear in small, remote villages where people are plagued by all sorts of superstitions and affinities for magic and such. But Erzsebet Héderváry was an educated woman, she must have had the finest teachers… And her family was known to be very religious, too. How could such a thing happen?"

"All of a man's learning often fails him when confronted with worldly passions," the priest replied. "After the death of her husband, Elizaveta spent some time in Vienna and found solace in the arms of a man much younger than herself, the heir of a well-know Austrian family. There seemed to be a great love between them, but his parents had other plans. They chose a wife as young as he and even though the affair continued, the countess began to fear that her lover would soon abandon her in favor of his new wife, because she no longer had such freshness that only youth possesses. Somehow, she must have studied the books of necromancers or other such abominable writings and has made the choice to give her soul to the Devil in exchange for youth and beauty. It was no use though – the Austrian ended things with her anyway and the countess returned home, humiliated and chagrined."

The Bulgarian did his best to stretch his aching legs in the crammed space between the seats, stifling a yawn. "And that was it?"

"No. A few months later the young man and his wife were gruesomely slaughtered in their house in Vienna together with all the servants. _That_ was it. There was no proof that it might have been the countess' doing, but… there's plenty of reason to believe that it was her."

Silence fell afterwards and Aleksander was grateful. For some reason this whole intrigue had upset him, this tale from what he would call 'the world of the living'. And maybe it had stirred some old, deep-buried memories inside him as well. At any rate, there was no use dwelling on it, on all the how-s and the why-s, the essential was that Erzsebet Héderváry was now a creature they were supposed to hunt and bring down. _But not tonight, not tonight._

* * *

It was well after midnight when the carriage eventually stopped. Feeling rather numb after the long hours, Aleksander moved to open the door and glanced out, grimacing as the cold air stung his nostrils. They were in a pitch dark courtyard, barren and unkempt, in the back of which he could see a large but austere looking parish house – at least that was what he assumed it was. Two torches burned on each side of the double wooden door, which seemed unusually solid and reinforced with iron bars. It looked quite ominous, especially since there was no one in sight.

A man eventually came out through the door - just as the boy was helping his older companion descend – and Aleksander stared at him a bit. Said man was quite young himself, a mess of curls shadowing his forehead and his body was lean under the tattered black robe. But his walk was sort of stumbled and darn, he wasn't hurrying at all.

"Please forgive me, I had fallen asleep watching the road. And be welcome, father, brother. I am brother Heracles," the young man said, taking a bow and leaning to kiss Father Grigori's hand. "I am to take care of all the arrangements…"

The older priest patted his shoulder lightly, allowing him to take his travel bag. "I hope all is well with Bishop Braginski?"

"Oh yes, thank God. As soon as you're settled, His Holiness will join you for a late dinner."

* * *

Bishop Ivan Braginski was an odd fellow, Aleksander thought, eyeing his almost cold stew without appetite. The man was rather young (maybe too young for such a rank?) and had a bulky sort of build, more suited for a different kind of occupation, perhaps something involving hard labor. Perhaps he was a strong, resilient fighter, the Bulgarian thought, thinking of the heavy hand which had been laid onto his shoulder as a welcome. But in complete contrast to that, Braginski was incredibly soft spoken and appeared very gentle.

"Anyway, there is a new murder occurring almost every week now," the bishop said, pulling Aleksander back from his thoughts. "Therefore you see, measures must be taken and this situation dealt with. I daresay it's almost like this land is suffering of plague."

His companion sighed, taking a slow sip of his wine (at least the wine was good here, not too sweet, not too dry and it would help him sleep better). "It is most unfortunate, indeed," the priest agreed. "I was telling Tsvetan on the way here about the murder in Vienna… how that poor young man and his wife were found slaughtered bestially… it is such a shame…"

"Actually," Ivan pointed leaning back his chair, "Roderich Edelstein's body was never found. They only found some torn, bloodied pieces of clothing which were presumably his and one shoe… but not the body. So it was only _assumed_ he was dead too, da."

Aleksander gasped, genuinely surprised at that. "But… do you believe he could be alive, then?" he asked without thinking. Of course Roderich Edelstein could not have been alive after all this time, it had all happened almost a hundred years before. The Bulgarian inwardly cursed his big mouth, which somehow never failed to embarrass him.

"Well, not alive, surely, but _un_-dead, da. I have thought about this possibility," Braginski admitted. "It's possible that the countess may have wanted to keep her lover forever by her side. However, that is hardly important. If he has indeed become a Nosferatu, then there can be no salvation for him."

The bishop's sense of practicality was somehow reassuring, Aleksander thought. He didn't seem to be interested at all in the whole drama, but rather solely on the outcome of it and he was only counting his potential enemies.

"Forgive me, Your Holiness," Father Grigori suddenly said. "It is very late and I believe we should retire. There will be plenty of time to talk things through in the morning."

The bishop only nodded with a light smile and they were afterwards led to their rooms by a very sleepy looking Heracles. The Bulgarian briefly looked around his – it was small and austere, pretty much like all the rooms he'd been sleeping in for as long as he could remember – but it was clean and neat so he reckoned it would do. It was cold enough for the boy to throw the cloak over his nightshirt and wrap himself as tightly as possible in the rough blanket, but as soon as his cheek touched the cool pillow, he was fast asleep.

_**To be continued **_

A/N – I know, not much happens in this chapter, it is more like an introduction. I promise the next one to be more exciting ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

A/N - Hello everyone! I have to confess – I really suck at writing author notes. So I won't write any. That being said, enjoy today's chapter! ;)

* * *

Braginski's headquarters turned out to be more than an austere parish house, as it had seemed at first. There were even a training room, equipped with all sorts of weapons, a vast library with countless books on the subject of the occult – to such extent that Aleksander wondered if a priest should have really delved in such dept in this sinister domain – and (much to his relief) other recruits as well. He'd feared that the Russian bishop had placed his hopes, whatever those hopes were, on him and him alone. After all, despite his relative experience on the matter, he was still in training. Thus, the presence of the other men was reassuring, especially now that Father Grigori had gone back after only a short visit, leaving him all alone among strangers.

As they walked down the halls on their little introductory tour, Ivan's heavy hand never leaving his shoulder, the Bulgarian genuinely wondered if the other man's confidence in the anticipated success of his mission wasn't rather overstated. If Father Grigori's account had been exact, then they were clearly up against something almost impossible to deal with. _Something others have apparently tried to deal with before and failed miserably…_

"Your Holiness-" the dark-haired boy began, struggling on how to phrase his ardent question.

"Ah, no! 'Father' will suffice, da? I've always believed that formalisms only get in the way."

The Bulgarian nodded shyly. "Yes… Father. I couldn't help wondering…. I mean I've heard- No, actually Father Grigori has heard that others have attempted to… do something about the matter at hand, but the only outcome was failure…"

"Those are light words to put it, I believe," Braginski replied with a soft snort. "The outcome wasn't failure, the outcome was that they all ended up dead. But my child, as mad as that attempt may seem to you, perhaps even foolish in the circumstances, I assure you that it was by no means unjustified, da."

Saying that, the bishop opened the back door and revealed a small gravel path, which crossed the backyard and led to a sort of chapel stuck to the high brick wall which surrounded the parish house. The small building, made of roughly cut, blackened blocks of stone covered in reddish moss looked quite foreboding. Ivan headed in its direction with determined footsteps, the Bulgarian following reluctantly and half-guessing what his new superior wanted to show him.

"We use it occasionally as a morgue, to study some of the corpses and find out…well what we can, at least maybe who they were. Not all of the discovered victims were from around here. And since the last girl was found only yesterday morning, the body is still here and I thought you should take a look, da?"

It wasn't a question really and Aleksander stiffened. He had clearly brought this upon himself by doubting their purpose, no matter how subtly or politely phrased. And now he was to see _a body, _just as he'd feared. He'd seen plenty of corpses until now, but it was ever an unsettling sight. The Bulgarian drew one last breath of fresh air before Braginski led him inside and he was confronted with a simple wooden table on which a heap of something lay hidden under a stained piece of cloth. The stale air was filled with a sickly scent of decay and Alexander's hand instinctively flew to his mouth as he stared in anticipating horror. The bishop however appeared entirely unfazed as he lifted the cloth.

"It isn't much of a body left, da… I think she couldn't have been more than fourteen, maybe fifteen… Before they used to bury them, but now with the frozen ground and all, the wolves were left to take care of it."

"And… all the victims were girls?" the younger asked randomly, aware that his back was now stuck to the cold wall as he tried to look anywhere but at the gruesome looking remains.

Braginski seemed oblivious to his distress. Or maybe he was doing this on purpose? Had the others ended up like this as well? Would _they_ too end up like this, half devoured by beasts, a miserable heap of torn, putrid flesh?

"At first, yes. The girls' blood was crucial to the rejuvenating rituals, as I have later discovered from reading more widely on the subject, but later on – especially after some fuss was made – male victims appeared as well, da. Nowadays there are all kinds, I'm afraid." Much to the boy's relief, the bishop finally replaced the cloth on the body, sparing him of the view at last.

"Earlier, you mentioned the others…" Braginski added, stepping to replenish the oil in the small lamp burning discreetly in a corner.

"Yes, there was a pastor who was first alerted by the increasing number of dead servants from the castle and later by the corpses turning out in the woods, but he and his merry friends were uninspired enough to write to the authorities in Vienna. First they were ignored, then their letters were intercepted by the countess' men. The pastor was killed by a supposed robber in his own bed, then the others followed, one by one. The last of them – a rich merchant – gathered up some armed men and even attempted to assault the Héderváry castle. You can easily imagine how that one ended. Now come…"

Aleksander was grateful for the fresh, albeit very cold air and for the pale rays of afternoon sun, once they were outside again, but it hardly made him feel any better. If anything, now his mortification was absolute. _Armed men?_ Well the bishop's small group didn't even qualify as 'armed men', let alone anything more, so what on earth was this man hoping they could do?

"I know, "Braginski said, guessing the unspoken question. "You are now asking yourself what it is that we have and they didn't, da? Well they did not have a plan to begin with and neither do I, as of yet. But their purpose was wrong to begin with - they sought to defeat the Héderváry family as a whole, to turn everything upside down, start a riot if needed, while I have no such intention. I have no wish to set fire to no home or spill the blood of my fellow men, however corrupt their ways may have become. I only want to kill Erzsebet and her Austrian – if he has indeed been turned – because they are already dead and the dead should not rise from their graves to rob innocents of their lives. And yes, I do have something they did not have."

* * *

The young priest-in-training had no desire to be shown what else Bishop Ivan Braginski had in store, aside from what he'd seen already. Most likely something equally sinister, as he was now led down the narrow and worn stairs of the basement. The Russian had only brought a small candle to light the way as they descended, forcing his newest recruit to feel the damp walls with his hands almost blindly as he followed. At the bottom of the stairs there was a solid door with a heavy looking key resting in the lock, but which Ivan maneuvered with unexpected ease. To his further surprise, a warm glow of candles came from beyond the door.

"Now, there's nothing to fear, Tsvetan. Everything is under control, I shall explain it shortly," Ivan reassured, motioning for his companion to step inside.

Unfortunately, the Bulgarian found no comfort in the bishop's words as he let his gaze wander around the room. It was bare, rough unwelcoming stone all around, no furniture and no windows, only a medium-sized chest in one corner, under one of the large candles fixed on the wall and… a coffin.

"No! No!" Aleksander cried before he could help it, drawing backwards, his eyes still inescapably glued to the dark, polished wood which reflected the dancing flames almost like a mirror. He really shouldn't have shown such weakness, he wasn't a scared little boy, but still…could it be? Maybe his imagination was too wild, maybe-

"It's all right, he sleeps during the day. And I have taken precautions, there's absolutely no danger," Braginski said softly, confirming his most bewildering suspicions. The priest kneeled in front of the coffin and motioned for him to come closer. "I assure you, there's nothing horrible inside, quite on the contrary, da."

But the dark-haired boy cared not about such details, as he stepped forward on shaky legs. The thought that the bishop kept _a vampire _in his house was simply unthinkable. _How is that even possible? And even if it is, has he gone completely mad? _If that was the Russian's secret, he had clearly not wanted to know it or be forced to keep it, for that matter. Was Braginski studying the creature? Was that even a sane explanation? Nobody had ever captured a ghoul for example to study it, it was absurd!

Ivan lifted the coffin lid slowly, carefully, as if not meaning to disturb, revealing a boy around Aleksander's age sleeping peacefully inside. The Bulgarian was confused, a scowl creeping onto his face as he stared. This wasn't some sort of joke, was it? Ghouls looked decrepit, even rotten, repulsive looking, their flesh of grayish coloring and covered with parchment-like skin. He was seeing no such thing now. The boy he was observing looked perfectly human, although some oddity seemed to reside in that very perfection. His skin, which was maybe a bit too pale, was flawless and every feature of his rather childish face beautifully chiseled, his light brown hair looked soft and silky. And vampires were supposed to be as dead in daytime, yet the boy was clearly sleeping – his head was tilted to the side while his arms rested casually onto the blanket which covered him up to his chest. He did not seem to be breathing though, but that was noticeable only at a very close inspection.

"Not what you would have expected after seeing ghouls and the like, da?" Braginski said suddenly, interrupting his observations. "Indeed, _real vampires_ are not as obvious as you might think and by no means monstrous. They look like everyone else, if anything they are more beautiful than everyone else. The perfect predators. Look at him, he's rather dainty, da? But make no mistake," the Russian explained, using his thumb to lift the boy's upper lip to reveal a very sharp canine. But even that was different from what Aleksander had expected – the ghouls had large, wolfish fangs made to rip and tear, while the vampire's were smaller and delicate, like a cat's.

"A-are you sure he won't wake up?"

"No, they sleep very deeply during the day and besides, like I was saying, I've taken precautions. We've bound him with some spells to ensure his obedience, but before that we have used silver needles to significantly weaken his power." While he explained, Ivan gently picked up the boy's wrist and pulled up his sleeve. The Bulgarian saw a pin headed needle stuck into the pale flesh right into the inside of the wrist and it turned out there were a lot of them, stuck into his body to drain his energy and hinder movement.

"But… don't they hurt him?"

Aleksander didn't know where that question had sprung – why on earth would he care about that? The vampire was a monster after all, his very existence was an abomination. But observing the sleeping form, it was somewhat hard to think of him – no, to think of _it_ that way.

"Of course they hurt him, although by now I think he may have gotten used to them. They do not hinder him that much after all, but we needed to put them in, he'd be too powerful otherwise. Even if he obeys me fully, I cannot take any risks, my men need to feel safe with him around."

"_W-what?_" Aleksander was dumbstruck. Was he hearing things? Bishop Braginski apparently allowed his 'pet' vampire to wander around the house! What else, he wondered in utter horror as the Russian gently ushered him out of the room, explaining that the Bulgarian would meet his 'protégé' that very night, after dinner.

* * *

In the light of the events from earlier, dinner was a dismal affair for the young priest in training. This time he sat with the rest of the brothers in a sort of dining hall, beside Heracles. The Greek was really a laid back sort of fellow and chatted away about all sorts of things, but Aleksander could not bring himself to pay any attention and barely managed to put anything in his mouth, plagued as he was by the story Braginski had told him earlier.

Apparently the countess Héderváry was not the only vampire in the area, there had been another – a Valah lord – a man renowned for his cruelty and viciousness. So black his heart had been that he'd turned his own orphan nephew, forsaking his poor innocent soul. Ivan had succeeded to discover the lord and his ward's resting place and captured them both. The beastly one they had slain without delay, but they had kept the boy, who happened to be surprisingly meek and docile. But why exactly had Ivan Braginski kept the boy _alive_, so to speak, was something he had yet to find out.

The idea scared Aleksander to no end, even if he would not admit it. And thus he asked no questions, keeping his thoughts to himself. Was this as safe as Braginski had assured him? Would he even be safe in his bed at night? The Bulgarian knew nothing of magic and binding spells (even the idea of the bishop using spells to make sure his 'pet' obeyed him couldn't have been any more 'unorthodox' and suspicious) and had no trust in them. Just where on earth had Father Grigori delivered him?

Eventually the dinner was over and, after hastily downing two glasses of wine almost on an empty stomach, the dark-haired boy stood from the table and said goodnight to Heracles and the brothers before heading to the library. Much to his chagrin, the wine had only managed to make him somewhat dizzy, but gave him no courage whatsoever.

Once in front of the small oak door, Aleksander drew a deep breath and briefly smoothed non-existing creases on his black clothing before knocking softly three times. _Everything's going to be fine. Braginski will be there the whole time, he won't leave me alone, no he won't, he won't. Right!_

"Come in!"

The boy's stomach settled upon hearing the already familiar voice of the bishop and he pressed the knob with as much confidence as he could muster.

"Ah, Tsvetan, you came," the Russian said, and Aleksander though he caught a hint of hidden amusement in his tone. "Glad you joined us. Like I promised, it's time for you to meet Valentin," he added, motioning with his head to an armchair placed near the window.

_Promised? Is that supposed to be some sort of favor he's doing me?_

"Well then," the bishop stated, weighting a tome he'd just picked from a shelf, "I'll leave you two to get acquainted…"

_**To be continued **_


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

A/N - Dear all, a big kiss and hug for the wonderful reviews! Also, special thanks to Edhla, for helping me improve the previous two chapters, it really helped!

* * *

Aleksander froze as the door was closed behind him, his hands balling into fists at his sides and nails digging desperately into the heels of his palms._' I'll leave you two to get acquainted'? Is he mad, leaving me alone with the creature?!_ _Why would I want to- No! I know what this is, it's a test! Yes, Braginski is testing me, he must be testing me!_

The dark-haired boy took a deep breath - having now found some sort of a logical explanation for the bishop's behavior – and willed his panic-blocked muscles to move. His gaze trailed warily around the large, candle-lit room as he advanced slowly, seeing no one yet. Eventually he spotted two armchairs in the back of the library, one of them empty and the other one facing the window. The tall backrest completely concealed whoever might have sat in it, therefore the Bulgarian guessed the vampire must have been there.

At last the priest-in-training reached the empty armchair and plopped on the hard seat as if after a great effort. It took another few deep breaths before Aleksander gathered the courage to look up at the other boy – who, as he had guessed, was sitting nearby. It was a bit ridiculous how curious and even shy he was, he'd seen the vampire already, but… _Not like this, though. _Valentin – if the Bulgarian had gotten his name right – had an incredibly delicate frame and a very innocent, childish appearance, as he sat there reading, long caramel bangs shadowing his forehead and his eyes. He wore only a light white shirt, black slacks and a pair of worn boots, but he probably wasn't bothered by the cold, Aleksander thought, shivering a bit in his black woolen robes. Darn, the library was chilly and no wonder - there was no fireplace.

Slender fingers rested on the thick covers of the book, closing it slowly as the boy too looked up. The vampire pushed a stray strand of hair behind his ear as he finally took in the newcomer with large, garnet-colored eyes. Maybe it was Aleksander's imagination, but he seemed slightly nervous.

"So… apparently you're _the one_," the boy said in a soft voice, smiling lightly. "They say you are nothing short of extraordinary."

Rudely pulled from his initial awe, Aleksander blinked in irritation. Bishop Braginski must have told his precious pet vampire God-knew-what about him and now the boy was clearly mocking him._ Damn!_ Of course, he couldn't have cared any less what the vampire thought about him, but the fear of the bishop's unrealistic expectations of him gripped him once more.

"My name is Tsvetan Georgiev and I am a priest in training, that's all." he replied dryly, leaning back in the armchair and crossing his arms.

"Your name is Aleksander Balakov and you are a prince, actually," Valentin stated seriously, pulling his knees to his chest. A shadow of amusement crossed his face for the briefest moment – most likely upon witnessing the other's expression of un-dissimulated horror. "But don't worry, I'll keep that to myself."

'_How do you know'? 'That's not true'? Should I even try to say any of that? No, it's pointless, he just knows. My God, he _knows_! What else does he know, just by looking at me? _The dark-haired boy shook his head, struggling to breathe through a new wave of panic. No, no, he couldn't show his fear, he couldn't allow himself to appear weak, this was what the test was about, wasn't it? Better to pretend he did not care about his secret being discovered. After all, it wasn't as if he'd done anything wrong himself.

"I _was_ all that, until it was decided that I can't be anymore. So now I am only who and what I just told you," the Bulgarian said, licking his dry lips and assuming a stern countenance. "But still, you can't tell anyone." he added as neutrally as he could muster.

The vampire smiled gently, careful not to show any teeth. "Don't worry,_ Tsvetan_. I promise to take it to my coffin."

Aleksander sighed, mentally dismissing the irony and unable to help wondering whether Bishop Braginski had expressly asked his pet to test his patience. Perhaps he even knew about the boy's ability to… read minds, or whatever it was he was doing. Could he trust him to keep his secret from the bishop? Highly unlikely, but maybe the Russian would not find any interest in the subject and keep his mouth shut about it. He could only hope that. But anyway, now was not the time to worry about this.

"Well, isn't that the point where you tell me who _you_ are in turn?"

"Valentin."

"Just Valentin?"

"Yes. Do I scare you?" the vampire asked simply, his fingers rising to play with the small red gem adorning his right earlobe.

_Well, that's very forward… _"No, you don't," the Bulgarian replied, willing himself to relax and sunk even deeper in the armchair. He must have given off that vibe, Aleksander though, because he avoided looking straight into the other boy's eyes. But it wasn't because he was scared, Valentin couldn't have looked any farther from scary. On the contrary, like Braginski had put it – he was beautiful. _No, actually he is… breathtaking._ Of course, a most absurd thought to dwell on.

"Does Father Braginski scare you, then?" Valentin pressed, thankfully distracting him from previous reflections. He snorted softly.

"I am not scared of anything, Valentin. But I have to say that Father Braginski's plans… sort of concern me," he admitted, letting his gaze trail into the darkness beyond the window. "Of course, I was told of his extensive experience and… perhaps I am biased by my very ignorance in the matter, but I still think he's trying to… um…"

"To make a whip out of shit," the vampire stated neutrally, making Aleksander almost flinch at the sudden vulgarity of the words. He had to inwardly admit though – they happened to be quite fitting.

"_Excuse me_?"

Valentin chewed a bit on his bottom lip, for the first time showing a perfectly white and very sharp fang. "It's a Romanian expression. It means trying to accomplish something with inappropriate or insufficient means."

"I guessed that, but I wouldn't put it that way," the dark-haired boy said bluntly."Father Braginski is my superior, a well-reputed man and I respect him. He may have too much faith in my skills though, that's all." _That and he's got no plan whatsoever…_

"And to think that nobody even knows how Erzsebet looks like," Valentin stated, fingers drumming lightly onto the covers of the book now abandoned on the armrest. "I suppose it must be difficult to hunt someone you don't know…"

Aleksander had thought his nails would be black and sharp, like the ghouls'. They weren't. Instead they were short, had a pleasant ivory shade and appeared to be groomed to perfection. The Bulgarian scowled, inwardly annoyed that his observations on the 'creature's' appearance were once more distracting him from the subject.

"What do you mean? Not even you? Father Braginski told me you lived in the same period as she did. You must have seen her, at least from afar!" Aleksander wondered - was Valentin by any chance protecting the countess? Could it have been a vampire thing, to protect another from its kind? Or maybe he had known her and he had been fond of her? She was said to have been a lovely woman… Or maybe he just had no intention to help his captor…indeed, why would he do anything to help the man who'd stuck silver needles in his body? But then again, the bishop could easily force him into obedience with his spells, couldn't he? Not that Aleksander understood anything on how the Russian's spells really worked...

"She never visited my uncle's court and my uncle wouldn't go anywhere on principle, so no, I have never seen her. Besides, while her husband was alive she barely ever left the castle - he was horribly and notoriously jealous – and after his death she spent most of her time in Vienna… So no, I don't know Erzsebet, but I've seen Ana Darvulia, her personal witch. _She_ used to visit my uncle."

The young priest-in-training felt very cold all the sudden. The countess had a _personal witch_? What in God's name was wrong with this land, with these people?! Bishop Braginski had never mentioned anything about that and his pet vampire spoke of it as if it was nothing out of the ordinary! Suddenly everything sounded like a bit too much for him, far weirder than anything he'd ever been confronted with. Maybe he should write a letter to Father Grigori and ask him… ask him what? His mentor would be disappointed if he asked to be withdrawn from this assignment and besides, by the time the letter arrived to the destination it might already be too late. A weary hand rose to rub his forehead as he pondered on things, oblivious to the fact that the vampire was observing him.

"I must say - I really liked Darvulia back then and I really thought it was a pity that she had no interest for any man," the other boy said thoughtfully, interrupting his musings. "And I didn't think much about her witchcraft either…I certainly never imagined what she would end up doing."

Maybe he should have asked - for the facts' sake at least - what it had been that the woman named Darvulia had ended up doing, but there he was again – talking about it as if it were the most natural thing in the world! For some reason, the Bulgarian found the whole thing, the whole _carelessness _which he couldn't help noticing, incredibly irritating.

"You know, earlier today I was taken to the chapel to see a corpse, or what was left of it anyway, while all Father Braginski had to say about it was something about the ground being frozen and…" the dark-haired boy burst out, shook his head in annoyance, "and I don't know, he was so very calm about it, like he didn't care at all that _someone died_! That girl, that innocent, young girl _died_! Most likely in a gruesome way! And there he was telling me about frozen ground and here you are, telling me some accursed fairytale about a pretty witch! Well I don't think this is a fairytale, I don't think this is a joke!"

The vampire grimaced. "Well, I'll have you know that somewhere in the course of events I ended up dead, so if_ it is_ a joke, it's a really bad one. And it's no fairytale either, I was simply told that you should know the facts. And Father Braginski, as much as I… well, don't think that much of him, he won't let himself driven up the wall by just any detail, he is here to solve a problem and is focusing on that."

"Oh yes?! Well I think we're only here for the challenge, to succeed where everyone else has failed and _precisely_ _because _everyone else has failed!"

Letting out a rather loud breath, Aleksander slumped back in the armchair, from which he had half-risen during his hearty speech, cursing his lack of control and his big mouth as he buried his face in his palms. Did he really have to say what he thought like that, out loud? Now there was no doubt that the vampire would report everything to his master, every single word of his would reach the Russian's ears. And then there would probably be consequences... When he looked up again, the dark-haired boy saw a light smirk on Valentin's lips, as if the vampire had 'smelled' a challenge of his own.

"And why are you here, _prince Balakov_? Is it not for your own score? After all, you are a reputed ghoul hunter yourself. And I though you respected Father Braginski…"

"I do respect his achievements, but not his apparent purposes so far. And you should stop calling me 'prince'," Aleksander grumbled ill-humoredly, crossing his arms defensively and facing the window. He was tired, this evening, no this day had been too long. He really needed to sleep. Just sink his head in the pillow and drift into unconsciousness, away from all worrisome thoughts.

The other boy sighed, stretching his legs. "I assure you, his purpose is just. A just cause for a fiery, passionate man like yourself – I can see why he has put so much hope in you. But I hardly advise you to express your views as openly as you did now in his presence. After all _prince_, you don't know what he did before becoming a priest, so perhaps you should try not to get on his nerves..."

_What he did before becoming a priest? _Well, whatever it was, the Bulgarian did not want to know. Bishop Ivan Braginski did look like someone you'd have expected to encounter in a tavern brawl rather than in a church and maybe he'd done some wild things in his youth, (things which the vampire must have dug out from the dark recesses of his mind) but it didn't mean anything. Or maybe everything was a lie, just another attempt to frighten him.

Excusing himself as coldly as he could, the young priest-in-training stood up from his seat and left the room without another word.

* * *

Closing the door behind him and carefully spinning the key in the lock, Aleksander eventually sighed in relief, finding the quiet of his small room incredibly soothing. Only now did he realize he'd been on edge the entire time, his muscles tense and his nerves strained to the point he now felt utterly exhausted. But had he at least passed the bishop's test? By the look of things, it all depended on the vampire and he could tell that Valentin was trouble. There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes that clearly spelled that – he had looked like an easy prey and now the bishop's pet would take any opportunity to torment him. _Darn!_

He changed quickly and slipped under the covers, curling up in a tight ball to warm himself up.

"_Go to sleep, Balakov. You'll have the chance to prove yourself tomorrow," _a soft voice resounded in his head, just as his heavy eyelids finally closed.

_**To be continued **_


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

A/N - Hello everyone! Aaaaand I am back with a new chapter of our little sinister fairytale! *start advertising break* By the way, if you haven't read "A Sinister Fairytale" – the very first Hetalia fic of yours truly and you're feeling low for whatever reason, I suggest you check it out! It will bring a smile on your face ;) *end of advertising break* That being said, please read, enjoy and let me know what you think will happen next!

* * *

It was a dark morning, with weak pale light filtering through the windows and giving the austere parish house an even gloomier air than usual. The sky outside looked laden with thick grey clouds, foretelling a bleak winter day. Aleksander had slept badly, tormented by all sorts of troublesome thoughts and waking up several times during the night, startled by the violent storm which had whipped mercilessly against the windows, hailstone rapping on the glass and wild wind shaking the sturdy wooden frame.

At least the breakfast had been somehow more animated than usual. For once not in his regular sleepy state, Brother Heracles was quite excited about today's practice and talked for nearly an hour, barely putting anything in his mouth. Since they were confined indoors due to the bad weather anyway and momentarily without a plan of action, Bishop Braginski had decided they should at least spend this time training. Despite their meek appearance, all the brothers were adept fighters - the Bulgarian had been told – and their leader thought they should be in shape at all times.

Aleksander wiped his sweaty palms off his simple black clothing as he headed towards the training room. So this was what the vampire had meant about proving himself, apparently. _The vampire…_ The previous night's encounter had shaken him somewhat and he'd found rather unsettling the thought that Valentin could read his mind and even speak in his head. If Bishop Braginski indeed controlled the boy it clearly meant that he had a powerful weapon on his hands, but who was he really putting it to use against? Did the Russian use Valentin to read the minds of his other men as well, keep them in check at all times? No, while part of it may have been true, he could not let himself be 'driven up the wall' with such thoughts!

And then there had been the talk of Darvulia, Erzsebet's _private witch_. But then again, Valentin had not mentioned her also being a vampire, so she must have been dead by now, wasn't she? But then why the mention of her? Just for the sake of testing or scaring him? Or maybe she had done something important, something the boy had wanted to tell him, but then Aleksander had lost his temper and that had been it. Either way, it was a lot for him to wrap his mind about and in such a short time, too.

* * *

All the other brothers were already there and it turned out that with all the useless fidgeting with changing his usual robes with more movement friendly clothes while thinking of a million of other things he'd run late. And now all eyes were suddenly on him, some curious, others expectant but overall Aleksander felt rather uncomfortable. He had never liked to be stared at.

Bishop Ivan Braginski was for once out of his formal robes, instead wearing a simple white shirt partially open at the front, black trousers and some heavy boots. Under the pristine fabric, his broad shoulders and muscular arms stuck out even more. _'You don't know what he did before becoming a priest, so perhaps you should try not to get on his nerves…' _ Indeed, seeing the solid Russian now, Aleksander had no choice but to mentally agree to what the vampire had said. The Bulgarian was for the briefest moment under the impression that there was an amused (or maybe ironic?) smile playing on Braginski's lips and he flinched._ Maybe I did fail his test or God-knows what the creature has told him and now... now what?! _But after the fleeting smile and a discreet gesture for him to join the rest of the recruits, the bishop ignored him, beginning to explain what they were supposed to focus on when confronted with the creatures they were meant to hunt.

"Ghouls are very strong and resilient beasts, da, but they are notoriously slow, at least as far as an experienced fighter is concerned. That's why, when dealing with these creatures, speed is of the essence. Strike fast, hard and quickly move away, out of their reach," the Russian explained."But also, bear in mind that in this mission we might have to face the countess' armed, well-trained servants as well, although I hope it doesn't happen, da."

He walked towards the back of the room where, sunken in semi-obscurity, there was a wall-high panel filled with all sorts of weapons. The sharp blades gleamed wickedly in the dark, adding to the ominous atmosphere. Aleksander hadn't spotted any practice straw dummy anywhere and worriedly wondered if they were going to use them against each other. But Ivan Braginski seemed oblivious to this little detail as he continued to explain, with his usual carelessness which was more and more bothersome, as he picked several of the dangerous items and handed them to a few of the brothers. However, most of them got some simple wooden canes. And then the bishop made a calling gesture, motioning Aleksander to come forth.

"It is also important to realize that in most situations you may be in the position to confront several opponents in the same time." Braginski snapped his fingers and in a matter of seconds Heracles and five other brothers surrounded the Bulgarian. Three of them were armed with long, thick canes, but the other three had short swords and axes.

"And now that Father Grigori's _best apprentice_ Tsvetan Georgiev is here with us, maybe he can show us some useful tricks. So don't hold back, da?"

It may have been just another fleeting impression, but the dark-haired boy thought he'd caught a clear hint of irony this time in his superior's words. He'd known it! The darned vampire had certainly told Braginski about his little attitude fit and now he was being taught a lesson, no doubt. Maybe the bishop would go as far as to let his men give him a good beating, if he proved unable to keep them at bay. He took a deep breath - Braginski had advised them not to hold back, so that went for him as well. He would just have to focus like in any other mission and like with handling any other enemy.

Aleksander had no other weapon but one cane, but in the end weapons weren't everything. Well, actually there was the small dagger he always carried inside his sleeve for emergencies, but he would not draw that against the brothers. Heracles and the others had admitted not having fought ghouls before, so that was possibly an advantage. He smiled lightly, making an inviting gesture as the men closed in on him, ready to strike.

The six brothers lunged forward, almost in the same time, brandishing whatever they were armed with, but the young priest-in-training dodged their first round of attack smoothly and gracefully. Then, a well placed kick broke Heracles' cane, another sent some other opponent flying, while a precisely aimed punch sent one of the brothers tumbling down onto the floor and dropping his weapons. Swiftly, he disarmed another and now with two canes it was even easier to defend himself. However, Braginski's recruits had some clear skills of their own and if anything they were resilient and relentless. There were already six of them continuously attacking and Braginski motioned for two more to join it. Now their strategy was clear – they were going to go on like this until he got tired and then 'finish' him.

"I know what you must all be thinking, da," the Russian said suddenly, "that ghouls would not gang up on their prey like that, that their dead brains are too thick to come up with even the simplest of strategies, but we may come across them in large numbers. They are an efficient weapon and unlike living servants they don't have to be armed, fed, clothed or paid. But the human servants of Erzsebet are as real as the pits of hell and – trust me – they will fight for her tooth and nail if they have to."

Unexpectedly, the little speech distracted his attackers and Aleksander took advantage of their lack of focus to bring them down one by one. To his surprise, Heracles gave up last. Drawing his breath, the dark-haired boy looked up at the bishop, anxious to assess the man's reaction. Ivan Braginski nodded and smiled benevolently at him, allowing the Bulgarian to almost relax. _Almost_.

The tall, blond Russian sighed, stepping forward and crossing his arms thoughtfully. "It is important though to note that countess Héderváry (and possibly her Austrian too) are neither ghouls nor anything like their human servants. Vampires are _a different thing altogether_. " he stated. "Ghouls are ghouls, we can handle them. But first and foremost we are here to hunt and destroy _her_. Without her, the ghouls will perish and the servants will scatter. Without her, all this nightmare will be over."

Braginski paused, examining the faces of his men, as if trying to gauge their determination in the matter and worthiness when it came to the task. _Funny he should say that though, when he finds himself without a plan... _

"However, like I have told you before, trying to barge in mindlessly like a battering ram will not get us anywhere. Others have tried that and you know only too well what became of them, da. I will not have crows feed on our bones if I can help it and the only way is to outsmart this wretched woman one way or another. How? I'm afraid I still have that to figure out, but until then I think it would be useful if you were at least able to defend yourselves."

The bishop sighed again, walking up to the Bulgarian and his heavy hand rested on the boy's shoulder. "Thus, you should know what you're up against."

As if on cue, the wooden door opened slowly, with a loud creak and Aleksander saw the caramel-haired boy from the previous night poking his head in, throwing a glance around the room. Then the garnet-coloured eyes rested on him and the bishop curiously. The Bulgarian inwardly tsked and rolled his eyes – had the obnoxious little vampire come to see whether he'd managed to get him in trouble with the bishop? And wasn't he supposed to be asleep during the day? He narrowed his eyes, but to his surprise Valentin instantly dropped his gaze to the floor, shyly.

"_You think I don't know what you're up to?_" Aleksander thought, although he didn't know if the vampire would hear him.

"_No, you don't."_

The reply was unexpectedly blunt and the other boy didn't look at him.

However, Braginski seemed oblivious to that particular exchange, instead clapping his hands conclusively. "Right! Tsvetan, you've done very well so far, I am impressed, da. But you and the others must see the real thing as well. Do you think you are up to this?"

The Bulgarian ran a hand through his hair, now damp with sweat. So _that_ was what Valentin had meant... He searched both his superior's and his pet's faces for any sign of smugness, but found none. The bishop simply looked calm and relaxed, with no obvious emotion , while Valentin was pulling the shy act again (because he was sure now that it was an act), staring awkwardly at his boots.

"Very well. When you're ready," the Bulgarian said, weighing his canes in his hands impatiently.

The Russian walked up to his pet and patted his shoulder gently, looking back and nodding. "He's ready. Come at him."

The dark-haired boy scowled – it was clearly a challenge. _'And why are you here, prince Balakov? Is it not for your own score?' _Were they questioning _his _real purpose, whether he was here just to prove himself and seek advancement? And if so, how was he supposed to act? Well, it was a bit late now though to be second-guessing himself, since he'd rushed in and already accepted. And on top of it all Valentin just stood there, with his arms crossed.

_Well, here goes nothing..._

Aleksander lunged forward as fast as he could - hoping to take his opponent by surprise – and swung the cane, only to hit nothing but thin air.

"_Don't think I'll make this easy for you."_

He turned sharply, surprisingly avoiding to be grabbed by the collar by nimble fingers and once more attempted to strike. This time Valentin captured his right arm in a grip so tight and crushing that the Bulgarian feared he'll hear his wrist snap any moment now. Not willing to let that happen to his other hand as well, Aleksander hit him as hard as he could, but predictably it was no good. The other boy didn't even budge.

But then the vampire suddenly released his wrist, hand going straight for his throat and the very next moment the Bulgarian found himself pinned to the wall, feet dangling above the ground as he struggled for breath. The bishop was watching the scene in his usual mood, observant but not seeming willing to intervene and restrain his little beast anytime soon. The cane had rolled down on the floor and panic seized Aleksander as he fruitlessly tried to free himself from the creature's grip with bare hands.

It was his luck that from the moment the idea struck him, he didn't think too much before putting it into application. Around his left wrist there was tied a thin rosary ended with a silver cross and he shook his hand, grasping the small item and then pressing it forcefully into the vampire's hand.

The smell of burned flesh instantly reached his nostrils and Valentin hissed and dropped him, withdrawing his hand with a pained grimace. And then everything happened in the blink of an eye, Aleksander – barely thinking and driven by his own horror - pulled out the small dagger and thrust it into the vampire's stomach to the hilt.

_**To be continued **_


End file.
